


Woven Trouble

by Arithanas



Category: Les Trois Mousquetaires | The Three Musketeers - Alexandre Dumas
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-26
Updated: 2013-12-26
Packaged: 2018-01-06 04:53:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1102651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arithanas/pseuds/Arithanas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aramis found himself with too many handkerchiefs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Woven Trouble

**Author's Note:**

  * For [898700 (ghostwriter)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostwriter/gifts).



> I hope you don't remember that I'm almost a year late on this!

There is a time when a man must know when to stop.

Just Aramis hadn’t realized his time came until he found himself in a tavern table with a bunch of handkerchief in front of him. There is no possible way a man can own eight different handkerchiefs, some of them trimmed with lace and some other with embroidered letters that made no sense for him.

How on Earth had he lost track of so many paramours?

Luckily, if you stand by a river enough time a fish would jump out to your plate or something on that effect, René seriously didn’t want to pretend he cares about the new phrases that he caught running around and collecting handkerchiefs. Collecting them, obviously, was not the trouble, but what to do when the stupid Bazin put them all in front of him and asked where his master does want to place the “collection”.

Well, every trouble had a way to be sorted out and Bazin’s impudence, which prompted him to flee from house with the incriminating collection and seek shelter on the nearest tavern, was the way of getting him out of the trouble. On that secluded table he inspected those incriminating pieces of fabric, the one with the golden coronet was important for several reasons and Aramis secured it by his heart; his own cambric handkerchief went to his pocket immediately, and one old lawn cloth was discarded, mainly by the amount of stains it had sustained, that certainly was not a proof of love. And while he was trying to sort out what to do with the rest a big hand slapped him on the shoulder with force enough to push him face first into the pile of fabric.

“Sorry, sorry,” Porthos said as Aramis tried to carry off the handkerchiefs before a comment could be made, without much success. “Hey, can I recover my hanky?”

“Your _what_?”

With Porthos there never was a way to know when something was a trick or he was serious.

“The one you used to clean your doublet when we got that brawl last week.”

Of course, he was asking his friends to lend their kerchiefs when he didn’t want to spoil his own. One of those was offered in reparation of a mud splat from a Guard, other was offered to contain an annoying drop of blood before the reveille, another was asked from a fellow musketeer to clean an insolent stain in his boots found just before he had to start his duty round. Asking around he got rid of the most of the lot, but one of those was still evading every effort to return it to its rightful owner.

None of his friends on the different corps recognize that simple linen kerchief with fretwork in all its corners, spotless and soft. That was not d’Artagnan’s, who favored them with reinforced hems; Porthos’ barely sport a hem among all the small point… It was far too practical to be part of a woman’s apparel, so it must belong to one of his comrades, but to find which one…

To find the owner was only matter of standing baffled on the staircase that leads to M. de Treville’s antechamber with the incriminating piece of cloth in his hand.

“Thank you,” Athos said, snatching it from Aramis’ hand.

“That one is yours?”

Athos just nodded, but on his word Aramis could not even remembered when he took loan of the blessed piece.

“Could you please tell me when did you lend me your kerchief?”

“I can, but not sure if I _must_.”

Was it the wording, or the quick glance Athos gave around them, Aramis was not sure, but he heed the warning to drop the matter. On the other hand, Aramis was suddenly sure that particular item was found in his bed by his cheeky valet.

“Just forget it.”

“It will be at your service whenever you need it again,” Athos said, stuffing it on his sleeve.

“Praying to God for it to be soon.”

Athos smiled to him. That chance will be soon, Aramis was sure.


End file.
